Duke, This Will Sting for a Moment

Just, merely, pushing someone like this into my bedchamber. Are you tired of living? My husband drew his sword. But of course, he is Frost Ielheim. The sole Grand Duke of the empire, the wielder of the holy sword Ielo. I am but Uriella Grande, a mere dancer in a roaming apothecary troupe, the despised illegitimate child sold into a political marriage. The frost in his blue eyes, beneath the long eyelashes as silver as winter frost, sparkled with a chill colder than the winter sea. A shiver ran down my spine. How infuriating. This man, a terminal patient poisoned by magic, was once a comrade who fought alongside me as an equal bearer of a holy sword. Solace Moretti. I was once the commander of the imperial knights, the empire’s first sword, the bearer of the fiery sword Plama. In the North, I was known as the Emperor’s dog who cursed the noble and beautiful Grand Duke to his terminal fate, and yet still had my head displayed high on the imperial walls… I began to unbutton his shirt, one by one. A mysterious green aura gathered above my silver needle. “What are you doing?” “I’ll heal you. I’ll save your life.” In this life, I wield a needle instead of a sword, a dress instead of dark armor. With this new life and power, I will save and protect you. “It won’t hurt.” My beautiful and prickly Grand Duke, with eyes deeper and bluer than Lake Islirian. So, “It’ll sting just for a moment.”